Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holly
Ilet the screen door close gently behind me, doing my best to keep the two cups of coffee from sloshing over in my hands.
Grayson is in the kitchen with his parents, filling them in on what happened over the last few hours, and letting them know that Lukas is going to be moving back into his childhood bedroom.
The soft click of the door has Lukas jerking his head in my direction, and I stand still for a moment, watching for any sign that he doesn’t want to see me, or maybe he wants a few more minutes alone.
His eyes are still lined red, glassy, a sheen of exhaustion radiating off of him. It might be from the booze working its way out of his system, the lack of sleep, or the adrenaline fading. Likely a combination of all three. His bandaged hand rests on his lap, knee bouncing erratically as he sits.
We found him at his worst last night. After spilling some of what has been going on with him to his brothers at the bar, his demons got the best of him.
Lukas said he went home after that, but couldn’t sleep.
His mind was racing with all of his wrongdoings, of his failures, causing him to lose that final strand of control.
He drank until he couldn’t think straight, screamed until his voice was raw.
The tipping point came when he listened to old voicemails from Magnolia – he went into a blind rage and trashed his apartment, breaking everything in sight.
It wasn’t until he put his fist through a window that the shock was enough for him to realize how far he’d fallen.
He didn’t say much while we were there, but he let Grayson pull him off the floor and into a hug. He let me clean up and suture his hand. I bandaged it the best I could with my limited kit, but I’m glad he’ll be around the farm so I can keep an eye on it.
When he offers a soft smile and gestures to the worn wooden rocker next to his, I take my first step forward, offering out a cup of coffee.
He takes it, wrapping both trembling hands around the sides of the mug.
“Grayson said you take it black.” I keep my voice low, soft as a whisper, as I take a seat in the rocker next to him. I curl my legs underneath me, wanting to starve off the chill that’s sitting in the early morning air.
We sit in silence for a few moments, both of us alternating between sips of coffee and staring out into the fields.
The sun rose maybe a half hour ago, waking the birds from their sleep.
Their lively chirps fill the otherwise silent porch as they flock around the feeders, happily grazing over their breakfast.
“Thank you for last night,” Lukas finally says. “I appreciate you willing to help, even when I don’t deserve it.” The words come out strangled, forced, and my heart breaks.
“Everyone deserves help, Lukas. You included. It doesn’t matter if you hate me; I’m still going to want to help you, no matter what it is.”
He nods once slowly before taking a sip of coffee. “I don’t hate you.”
With the exhaustion settling deep in my bones from the early hour, I chuckle a little at that. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He smiles, briefly, flicking his gaze to mine before returning to stare out at the fields.
A moment later, he starts again, “I don’t have a single reason to hate you, you and I both know that.” He sighs heavily, finishing the rest of his coffee in a massive gulp before setting his mug at his feet. “I wanted to hate you because I hate myself.”
I suck in a silent breath at his words and feel my eyes glisten with unshed tears.
It’s obvious that Lukas is struggling, and given that he’s silently suffered through his dreams shattering, losing his childhood love, and his experience in the military, I’d say he’s been suffering in silence for quite a while.
He leans back in the chair, pulling off his worn ball cap to run his non-bandaged hand through his sandy brown locks. He replaces the cap, adjusting his brim low to cover the sun that’s threatening to rise in the sky.
“You look a lot like her … has anyone told you that?”
I want to ask who he’s talking about, but that’d be foolish.
He’s got to know that everyone has told me about Magnolia.
It seems like even though their relationship has ended, their names are still closely entwined.
Lukas and Magnolia. Water and ice. Two things that are different but still one form of the other.
“I see you,” he continues. “And it reminds me of her.” He looks over at me briefly, a sad smile crossing his face but not breaking his lips.
“You’re both tall, pretty. The same kind of hair, the color of corn silk in early July.
You blend so perfectly with my family, just like she did.
And the way you look at my brother…” His voice cracks, and he swallows hard, turning away from me to face the barns.
“The way you look at my brother is the way she used to look at me.”
“What happened?” I ask. It seems to be the burning question I ask everyone, and the one they ask each other, yet no one really knows.
He shrugs, leaning back in the rocker and using his weight to move the wooden chair back and forth, back and forth as he thinks.
“Everything, yet nothing at the same time. I think the easiest way to describe it is that I’m broken.
I’m a mess. I was well on my way to crashing and burning.
I was angry with what I had lost, jealous that she was living her dream.
I hated my experience in the military, all of the loss…
” His voice cracks, and he turns away from me.
He rocks for another minute before trying to speak.
“I was miserable, and instead of leaning on her for support, instead of letting her in, I pushed her away. The worst part is, I let her believe it was all her fault.”
His hands come up to cover his face, scrubbing roughly against his cheeks. “She was my best friend, Holly.” He pushes out a shuddering breath before letting his hands fall. “My best friend for my entire life, and that’s the hardest fucking part.”
My heart aches for the man next to me. I can see the pain he talks about, that brokenness he’s been camouflaging behind anger and harsh words. He hides from his family, his friends, and he’s trying to hide it from himself.
“Do you still talk to her?”
He shakes his head immediately, reaching for the mug at his feet only to remember it’s empty. “It’s been, uh…” He sniffles once. “Well, she ended things about a year ago. I think it’s been a little over six-ish months since she finally gave up on me.”
I hear movement at the door to my left and turn, seeing Grayson standing at the threshold. He asks if I’m okay, and I nod, gesturing for him to bring another cup of coffee to Lukas.
“Do you know how Grayson and I met?”
“Which time?”
I chuckle at that. “The second time.”
“The clinic, right?”
I nod. “A clinic in Willow Creek, but did he tell you why I was there?”
Lukas shakes his head no.
I take a sip of my coffee, letting the warmth burn my throat.
“I’ve had anxiety ever since I was a little kid.
I remember being little, around five maybe, watching my friends play on the playground and not understanding why I didn’t feel like them.
How come they were always so happy? Why weren’t they worried about falling and skinning their knees?
Weren’t they worried that someone would be mean to them, that they’d do something and get in trouble?
Weren’t they worried about what the afternoon of class would look like?
What might happen on the bus ride home?”
Lukas turns to look at me, and for the first time in our conversation, his gaze stays with me.
“It got worse as I got older, but I was able to recognize it for what it is. I’ve done therapy, workbooks, I’m medicated with the best of them.
” I set my mug in my lap, swiping away a brown drip that’s making its way down my cup.
“It got to the point that I couldn’t make it through an ER shift without needing to stop to take a sedative.
” They were prescribed; my doctor knows what I do for a living and I was open with my supervisor, but each time I had to do it, it felt like I failed.
“Then one day, a particularly bad day, I was sleep deprived, burnt out. It was one of those days where the lights felt too bright, the alarms beeped too loudly, everything overstimulated me, and then I had to tell a woman who was my age that her husband didn’t survive an accident.
” My throat burns from the memories. “I couldn’t do it,” I tell Lukas, and the tears brimming in his eyes are a reflection of my own.
“I lost it. I panicked, fell to my knees in the middle of the ER and was fighting for my breath.” I nearly passed out.
The rolls reversed and I quickly became the patient.
When I had calmed down, the humiliation set in.
“After a forced leave of absence and mandatory counseling classes, I was able to slowly start to return to work, and that’s where I met Grayson. ”
As if summoned by his name, the screen door creaks, and Grayson exits the house, holding a new cup of coffee for the both of us. He hands one to Lukas, and then one to me, taking my cold half-full cup back inside.
“My only point of telling you my sob story is that I know what it’s like to feel like you lost your dream.
To be broken. To be depressed and anxious and feel like you’ve fallen.
I know what it’s like to be embarrassed of the mess you’ve made, to feel like there isn’t anyone in your life to lean on.
But then I met a really great person who pointed out that a mess isn’t the end.
Maybe it’s a chance to figure out a new way. ”
He nods, a slow, simple bob of his head. But then the act grows, like he’s truly understanding what I’m telling him. “Wow,” he huffs out, taking another sip of coffee. “Now I really feel like a dick for treating you like shit.”